


Lusitania

by kirakirababy



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, Gay Sex, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirababy/pseuds/kirakirababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I close my eyes and picture you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lusitania

_Eyes heavily lidded as you gaze up at me expectantly, amber orbs dancing with anticipation._  
_You insert two fingers into your mouth, running your tongue lewdly along the length of them and smirking up at me as you shift your hips beneath mine._  
  
_You know exactly what you do to me._  
  
_And enjoy it._  
  
_The thought of your eyes on me, begging wantonly without saying a single word, has my heart racing._  
  
His touch becomes aggressive and he kisses me, impatiently.  
Hard.  
Hard enough for teeth to cut lips.  
Hard enough to bruise.  
“Stop taking your goddamn time and fuck me.” He hisses in my ear, fingers twisting in my hair as he kisses me again demandingly.  
  
I close my eyes and picture you.  
  
_“Aoi?” You whisper against my lips._  
_Languid kisses traveling from mouth to chest to stomach._  
 _“Let me...?”_  
 _I can't help the yelp that escapes me as you push me over and crawl on top of me._  
 _Your strength always surprises me._  
 _Shoulder blades and muscles flexing in the light, damp skin and blond hair shimmering as you make your way downwards, never breaking eye-contact._  
 _You smile and bite your lip before lowering your head._  
  
_My desire for you has me excited._  
  
A sharp intake of breath and a shuddering moan.  
Expletives ground out between breathy grunts and whimpers.  
He always sounds like he's in pain.  
But when I slow my thrusts and meet his eyes questioningly, he groans in frustration, digging his nails into my hips and tells me, “don't fucking stop.”  
  
I close my eyes and picture you.  
  
_Your head is thrown back, sinking into the softness of the pillow, one arm is strewn carelessly across your mouth, muffling your keening moans._  
_You lift your hands to the back of my neck, pulling me closer until you lift your head from the pillow, licking along the artery pounding in my neck. Biting down softly and sucking the skin there._  
 _Please, leave marks I don't want to hide._  
  
He's vocal when he comes.  
“Fuck...fuck..!”  
The thought swirls somewhere in the back of my hazy, pleasure-filled mind  
  
that a vocalist would be vocal.  
  
_Your breath catches and you whine somewhere deep in your throat._  
_Your fingers grip the sheets, eyes screwed shut, shuddering silently as I steal your breath from you._  
  
Such beautifully unintelligible cries.  
A song without music.  
  
He screams your name.  
Screams so the neighbors can hear.  
  
He closes his eyes. And pictures you fucking him.  



	2. Bismarck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why did you do it?” I finally ask, not trusting myself to look at him.  
> “Familiarity? Comfort? Take your pick.”

Your lips tease me with a slight quirk as you talk.  
About music, and this section of that song.  
Tongue darting out occasionally, wetting the silky flesh.  
“Are you with me?” You murmur, setting your guitar gently in its stand and moving towards me in what seems like an instant, hips swaying to a beat I can't hear.  
“Uha, can we talk about it?”  
Your face and eyes suddenly harden and your body stiffens as you tuck your hair irritably behind your ear and fold your arms loosely across your chest, rapping your fingers impatiently against the skin of your forearm.  
“There's nothing to talk about.”  
“I think...” my voice is lower than usual, and sounds feral, dangerous, even to my own ears.  
You take a tentative step backwards, looking like a shaking, cornered animal. It might have been funny, if it weren't so fucking sad.  
 _Stop shaking, they'll find us._  
Your eyes slide uneasily to the door, looking for a means of escape.  
“I think...” I repeat, “that when I come home to find you naked in bed...”  
“Stop.” You whisper, a weak command that rolls over your lips and dissipates almost before it reaches my ears.  
“With one of our closest friends...”  
“Yuu, stop it.” Your hands are clenched into trembling fists at your side and your eyes are flashing with something between hurt and pride.  
“That we fucking have something to talk about.”  
“Not here.” You hiss, taking hold of my arm at the elbow as your eyes flick towards the door again.  
“Then where? Because you're not stepping one god damned foot in my house until you fucking explain yourself.”  
  
 _And this bed was probably the last place I thought he and I would meet._  
  
“He's not picking up.” He states bluntly, sitting heavily on the edge of the mattress, dripping with summer rain and shivering as a puddle forms at his feet. “I didn't want any of this to happen.”  
I cross and uncross my arms, letting out a derisive snort before moving to stand in front of him and shoving a towel at him, unwilling, even now, to let our vocalist catch a cold. “Don't act so god damned immature, it doesn't suit you.”  
His head snaps up, and he gratefully accepts the towel, beginning the process of ringing out his hair, his phone clattering lifelessly to the floor, his eyes are dark and sunken. “You know how he is. He made it impossible to suggest--”  
“It was possible. You were his best friend, for fucks sake.”  
“I know.”  
“You seem to know a lot. Except how to keep your hands to your fucking self.”  
He tsks and tosses the towel across the room so that it lands at the bathroom door. “You're acting like he had nothing to do with it. _He_ started it. _He_ was the one who needed more, practically begged for it.”  
Before I realize what has happened, my knuckles are stinging and he is clutching his cheek, eyes burning as every curse in the book rolls smoothly off his tongue.  
“I don't give a shit who started it. You should have fucking ended it.”  
“Fuck this. If you two were serious then you should have kept your fucking bitch in chec--”  
He's on his back, cheeks flushed an angry red and gasping for breath. I'm shaking above him, pinning him to the mattress with nothing more than my larger frame.  
“What, are you going to hit me again?” His mouth quirks up into a smile that is an aggravating echo of yours.  
I kiss him instead.  
  
  
 _Between the lingering smell of your hair and the deafening silence of the room,  
hands meet hips and heartache meets lips._  
  
The sound of a breaking kiss.  
At first, I'm surprised by his responsiveness.  
Thighs and stomach trembling beneath my hands and lips.  
Breathy moans morph into filthy words as I quickly prepare him.  
Small, steely fingers wrap tightly around my wrist, holding my hand still.  
“Make it hurt.” His voice is low and needy, dripping with something like disgust.  
  
 _I enjoy watching him unravel beneath me._  
Writhing and twisting in the sheets.  
Gasping in pain.  
Fucking him like I'd never dream of fucking you.  
  
  
Headlights from the cars outside throw light against the rain-speckled windows.  
“Why did you do it?” I finally ask, not trusting myself to look at him.  
“Familiarity? Comfort? Take your pick.”  
He always did draw an odd strength from familiar pain.  
  
“We can't let him tear us apart.” He finally murmurs. The band. Us.  
I resist the urge to spit.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to Lusitania.
> 
> Originally posted at:  
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/23778.html

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at:  
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/16242.html


End file.
